"And it was that dirty old Fisette who found the mine?"
Belding chuckled. "He's not old nor dirty, and was the best prospector
of the lot. Yes, he found it."
"Goodness! were there many of them?"
"About twenty. They all worked in different districts and knew nothing
about each other."
"Then that's what brought that special train load up from Philadelphia?"
"I suppose so. They seemed very happy when they left."
Mrs. Dibbott poured out some more elderberry wine. "When I think what
that man has done just out of water, it makes me gasp. I switch on the
light and don't trim any more lamp wicks, and the well's gone dry and I
don't care, and Mr. Filmer told me last night there are eight thousand
more people in St. Mary's. Do you remember that meeting?"
"Every word of it."
"And Mr. Manson--he was a wet blanket, wasn't he?"
"But he was snowed under, fortunately."
"I know he was, but did you hear that he has made a fortune out of real
estate, and is going round with a face as long as his back?"
Belding knew nothing about Manson--he had been too busy.
"Every one says he's in the dumps because he sold out just before
Fisette found that mine and real estate has been jumping ever since."
"But he never believed in Mr. Clark."
"Some of him does and some of him doesn't," said Mrs. Dibbott sagely.
"How much did he make?" Belding was wiser with other people's money
than with his own.
"They say twenty-five thousand and," she added enigmatically, "I'm
sorry for his wife."
The engineer laughed, said good-by and turned toward the Worden house.
At the sound of his step in the garden Elsie looked up, a provocative
smile on her face. She was so dainty, so desirable, that he felt a
swift hunger throbbing even to his finger tips. She made room for him
on the bench.
"I'm for Mother Earth." He stretched himself at her feet. "Where have
you been lately, we've missed you at the works."
"I've just got back, been away for two weeks. Are you still very busy?"
He nodded, but business was not what he wanted to talk about. It was
more than two years now since they first met and he had a feeling that
all that time he had been an open book to her bright eyes.
"Don't let us talk business," he said a little unsteadily.
She swung her large straw hat by its silk ribbons. "You shall choose
your own subject."
"It isn't business, it's you," he went on bluntly. "I've tried to tell
you before but you wouldn't let me."
"It's a heavenly evening for a proposal."
"Do you mean that?" he gasped.
"Why shouldn't I? The moon is just coming up and the river is quiet
and we can hear the rapids, and here you are at my feet. What more
could a girl ask?"
Something twitched at Belding's fancy. "Then I love you and I want you
desperately and I'll take care of you all my life. Is there any one
else?"
His voice sobered her. "Don't, you mustn't say it like that, it sounds
too real."
"But it is real," he protested, "the most real thing I ever said."
"You mustn't," she answered a little shakily. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't
have gone on like that."
Belding captured her hand. "I'm glad you did, Elsie, it was just
right."
"But I didn't mean it," she said pitifully, "and it wasn't fair of me.
I didn't know you felt like that."